The Oft-Sprung Surprise
by Dame March Dolcetto
Summary: (spoilers for the manga) Having lived three thousand years, cursed with constant love and loss, Meliodas has more than one secret to keep, of which one is a surprise he's often sprung on his unwitting friends. Oneshots in which, intentionally or no, the Sins learn more of Meliodas and the family he's kept secret for so long.
1. Triss

**Hit a bit of a block with Wrong Time. This had been mostly done for months now so I thought I'd finish it to get over m'block. Figured it ended up worth sharing, anyway. Enjoy, I hope.**

**EDIT: Changed title slightly**

* * *

It had been on the most normal, jaw-droppingly boring day that Ban had discovered something he never would've expected.

It really had been a boring day, no doubt about it. The King had kept the Captain busy all morning doing paperwork for damages done in line of duty (and definitely not from arm-wrestling), King and Diane were spending the day out together on some stupid errands, and Merlin was working one of her experiments with Escanor and Gowther. He'd been bored stiff all day in the absence of his fellow Sins. Even going stealing hadn't held much fun, not when there was no King to needle him for doing it. The most exciting thing that happened that morning had been the mailman tripping as he'd delivered their mail (a letter for the Captain, packages for Merlin, and more books for Gowther). It had been _that_ boring. When the Captain finally came back after the paperwork was all done, he'd been raring to go drinking or sparring or _something,_ and the Captain had looked _more_ than willing to oblige.

But then he read his letter. And he'd frozen into place.

Not that it was really any of his business or anything but he couldn't help but notice. The Captain's expression in the moment he'd opened the letter... it wasn't anything he'd ever seen before. He might've only known him for a year, so far, but he just _knows_ that it wasn't normal, not for him.

"... Let's go drinking some other time," Meliodas calls out, at last. His voice sounded stiff to Ban's ears. "I'm going out. Errands. Don't wait up, I'll be back by tomorrow."

They're best friends. Of course he noticed.

"Cap, where you goin'?"

"I'm going out," he repeats. He tries for a smile but it comes out as a grimace that just looked unnatural on his face. "I won't be long. I should be back by tomorrow morning."

He just looks at him, eye to eye. "Captain," he says simply. "Tell me."

Meliodas stops in his tracks. For a few long moments, he says nothing, only meeting Ban's gaze, before finally giving in, words almost whispered: "I'm going to a funeral." His voice was kept carefully neutral. His expression was blank of all overt emotion, but his eyes were dark, and his hands were balled into fists at his sides.

He closes his eyes. "... I'm sorry," he says, and he means it. "Was it a friend of yours?"

His jaw was tight. "Something like that," he mutters. His knuckles were white. "I really do have to go, though."

It's not really any of his business but.

Meliodas' hands were shaking, his expression was stiff and lifeless, and it was all _wrong_.

He reaches out and touches him on the shoulder. "... Mind if I tag along?"

The Dragon's Sin doesn't make any move to remove his hand. "... Do what you want."

And so he does.

_There_, as it turned out, was a place called Izema, a small village south of Liones. It wasn't that far. They make their way on foot, walking at a steady pace, Meliodas silently leading the way. They stop only once, at a flower cart where, as his funeral offering, the Captain bought a posy of carnations, all in different colors. Aside from that one exchange, Meliodas doesn't speak, and Ban doesn't try to.

They arrive only a scant few hours later, cresting over the hill that hid the village from view. From that vantage point, they had a good view of the cemetery—and the one new grave visible in it. There, Meliodas stops in his tracks, staring straight ahead at the cemetery and the graves dotting its expanse. Ban stops shortly after, peering over his shoulder with some curiosity. Almost without meaning to, he whistles at the sight.

"Looks like we missed it, Captain."

There was an eclectic mix of people still lingering inside the cemetery, but, for the most part, people were already leaving, most of them headed by a woman in clerical vestments. Ban surveys the people still inside, notes a giant of a woman with dark blue hair, tawny skin, and bright green eyes, a tiny sprite of a boy with fairy wings held in an ancient-looking grandmother's arms, and a young woman with fluffy dandelion-yellow hair set in a braid. He notes their features, their appearances, and those of the woman on the portrait placed before the grave, her bright green eyes in particular. A metaphorical bell soon rings in his head. "... she your family, Cap'n?"

"My daughter," he says simply. The carnation stems had gotten crushed in his grip. "She was a hundred and twelve last year."

He doesn't show much of a reaction but the knowledge is more than a little startling. "I didn't know you had any kids," he says. Then, with a more teasing lilt to his voice: "Who'd have thought a scrawny little kid like you could have a family already?"

He got a punch on the shoulder for his troubles, though one without any real force. "I've been alive for a long time, you know!" he snaps back, puffing out his chest. There was a sag to his shoulders and his voice had lacked his usual verve. "A... really long time."

By unspoken agreement, they wait until the last of the lingerers leave the before making their way over to the new grave. It was small and neatly made little plot, a waist-high obelisk of freshly-cut stone with a framed portrait leaning against it, and flowers covering the entirety of where the body lay. While the arrangement was simple and probably inexpensive, it was obvious that the woman buried had been well-loved. Ban kneels to survey the gravestone. The name on it simply read 'Triss'.

"It's been a long time, Triss," Meliodas says gently. He places the carnations onto the gravestone, arranging them neatly around the name. "I can see you've done well for yourself."

Not knowing what to do, not knowing what to say, Ban kept his head low as his friend spoke softly to the grave, doing his best not to hear. There were things he knew were supposed to remain private. Instead, he knelt to study the portrait on the grave, that of Triss, the Captain's daughter.

She didn't look much like him, he noticed that immediately. She was an ancient-looking matron of a woman, her bun a stark, dry white and her face deeply wrinkled. If he hadn't known beforehand, he would've sooner thought she was Meliodas' grandmother or even great-grandmother than his daughter. Her features looked stern and solid but her smile was warm and her eyes, a clear, familiar shade of green. He didn't know her—had never even _heard_ of her until today—but he had a good feeling she hadn't been all that bad of a person.

Actually, knowing her dad, he was sure of it.

"... Y'okay, Captain?" he asks, many minutes later, after Meliodas had been silent for some time.

The set of his shoulders looked tense to Ban's eye. "... I'm fine," he replies shortly. "Just... give me a few minutes." He flashes him a quick smile, as if in reassurance, but it does no such thing. It looks small, sad, pained, and utterly alien on his face. "It's just... it's been a long time."

A cold breeze blew past, ruffling their hair. For a moment, that is the only sound that can be heard.

"What was she like?" he eventually asks. "... you don't have to tell me, if you don't want to."

He shakes his head, a faint, sad smile on his face. "Triss? ... She was a good girl," he says reminiscently. "If you met her, you couldn't help but love her. And she was always helpful, always trying to be useful. But she could be awfully cheeky, too. I remember, she got into so much trouble back when she was just a kid. Man, her mother and I didn't know what to do about her back then! But... she was our pride and joy."

He looks at his friend from the corner of his eye. "... and who was her mom?"

"Betha," he replies. This time, his smile seemed honestly happy. "She was an _incredible_ woman," he says, and there's a reverence in his eyes, something almost worshipful. "She was the bravest, best person I know. I wish you could've met her," he adds, wistful. "Back then, she could knock 'em back with the best of them!"

_Back then._ "What happened to her?"

His smile falls. "Bandits," he says simply. "Tried to rob our house. I was away with Triss at the time and she was alone. By the time I got there, she was already... " his voice trails off and his hands clenched into fists. Because they were friends, Ban knew enough to look away. "Triss was only two years old."

He looks at him from the corner of his eye. "... Did you get them?"

A flicker of cold fury burned in his eyes. "Of course," he says quietly. Then, the darkness faded from his expression and he smiled, neither a large one nor a humorous one, but a genuine one all the same. "... after that, I raised Triss by myself. She was a real handful!" His smile turned fonder, showing more honest joy, a wistful pride. "But I think she turned out alright." He looks to the portrait of the ancient-looking woman, smiling as he arranged the flowers before it. "She turned out so beautiful, I almost can't believe it..."

"... You're a good dad, aren't you?" And there is maybe just a hint of surprise in his voice. But then, his friend is a good man. He's not sure why he sounds surprised.

Said 'good dad' only gives a tiny shrug. "... I don't know. But I tried my best, each time."

Ban kneels down to place a long blade of grass folded into a six-petaled flower in front of the gravestone as his own little offering, before touching his friend briefly on the shoulder, eyes fixed on the name on the grave.

"Knowing you," he says, looking straight ahead. "You were great."

"Heh."

"Was she like you, Cap?" he has to ask, to which he shook his head.

"She was a normal human girl," he says. "An ordinary human girl, just like her mom. My Triss didn't get anything from from me... aside from her eyes." Then he puffs out his cheeks. "That's probably a good thing. Her mom's amazing, better than I could've ever been. Still, if... if she could've gotten anything from me..." He looks at the grave, hands balling into fists. "I would've wished she'd gotten... I wish she could've lived. Even just a little longer."

For a moment, the two of them say nothing. They stand there in front of the gravestone in a not-quite-comfortable silence, Ban's hands stuffed in his pockets as he looked skyward while Meliodas looked at the grave before them, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. If Ban noticed the shake in the captain's shoulders, he was good enough not to mention it. At last, when the sun had long-since set and the sky had become speckled with the first stars of the evening, Ban spoke:

"Do you need another minute?"

Meliodas lets out a quiet huff of laughter before shaking his head. The front of his shirt had gone damp, as had the cuffs on his sleeves.

"I'm good," he says softly, the words all one exhale. "We should go back."

"Mm."

They're in no rush. They make their way back slowly, walking side by side. The night was calm and quiet.

"Hey, Cap?"

"Hm?"

"If you ever get another letter like that one," he begins carefully, eyes fixed on the horizon as it stretched out before them. "I wanna tag along."

"... Why?"

"Look, Captain, if you really don't want me to come with you, I won't force it."

Without once stopping or looking back, he looked out onto the horizon and shoves his hands into his pockets before continuing.

"... Thing is, though, if it were me in your position, I wouldn't want to be alone."

Meliodas stops.

So Ban stops, too. Lets him have a minute.

Then, finally, with a smirk, he adds:

"After all, knowing you, you're gonna want to hit a bar around this time and there's _nothing_ more boring than drinking alone."

There's a moment of silence but then, Meliodas laughs, loud, hard, and true, for minutes on end and when it's over, there're tears in his eyes and he's wheezing from the lack of breath. "Can't... say you're wrong—pfft!—there! Haha!" He then punches his friend lightly on the shoulder then starts to walk again, wiping the tears from his eyes as he did. "Great idea, though! What do you say we go now?!" His grin might've been a tad manic but it was genuine, and it was a relief to see. "I know a great place that's on the way!"

"Best idea I've heard all day," he drawls, grinning as he followed from behind, hands now in his pockets. "Your treat, of course."

"What, are you kidding me? I just lost my daughter," he declares, and, for a moment, there's hitch in his throat and a gleam in his eyes, but the moment ends and Ban chooses not to comment on it. "_Your_ treat, this time!"

"That's _low_, Captain," he drawls, but, in his head, he's calculating how much alcohol he can buy with the money he's got in his pockets and he honestly doesn't care how much he's going to have to spend. "But okay."

They crash the nearest bar they find and drink the night away and then some.

It's many,_ many_ drinks later, when even Meliodas had finally gotten redfaced drunk, that Ban finally makes his own request of him.

"Tell me more 'bout her, Cap~" he slurs, nursing the one bottle of hard liquor he'd managed to drain. He'd gotten woozy after the first sip—not that that had stopped him from finishing the bottle. "Y-Your girl. The kid. Your girl kid, I mean."

Meliodas, who was seated on a literal pile of similarly drained bottles, two emptied casks, and at least sixteen spotless tankards, blinked woozily at his friend and swayed a little on his seat. "Y'mean Triss or s-shomeone else? 'Cause I have—I've got _more than one_, can you believe it? I didn't believe it at _all_ when my first was born."

"Kakaa~ You've got a big family, already, _*hic!* _you bastard?! Never woulda believed a puny-lookin' _*hic!* _guy like _you _coulda had one already. Tell me 'bout her! Tell me bout _aaaall _of 'em, then!"

"S-sure *_hic!* _thing! Ju-just so you know, my kids are all _amazing_. And I've got tons of _*hic!* _pictures of 'em all back home," he slurs right back, grinning dopily, before knocking back another cask and draining it dry. "I'll tell you _aaaall_ about 'em!"

* * *

Of all the secrets he had, the fact that he had children was one of the best hidden.

It's in a moment of weakness that he entrusts it (entrusts _them) _to Ban but he never once regrets it.

* * *

***waves hands* Surprise, it's a kidfic. I̶s̶ ̶i̶t̶ ̶a̶ ̶s̶u̶r̶p̶r̶i̶s̶e̶ ̶i̶f̶ ̶i̶t̶'̶s̶ ̶i̶n̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶t̶i̶t̶l̶e̶?̶**

**I mean, Triss isn't a _kid_, per se... or alive... but it probably sort of counts. I mean, given 3,000 years and over a hundred lifetimes, I'm sure it could've happened. ****And, if, as one of the Q-and-A's confirmed, there've been Elizabeths who've died of old age, there've probably been a few Elizabeths who've had comparatively happy lives, some of them shared with Meliodas, of which some were disgustingly sweet and domestic. His life with Betha and Triss (short for Tristanne) had been one of them... until it had been cut short.**

**This was inspired by a really cute mental image I had of a great, stern-looking matron of great-grandmother going up to Meliodas, smiling, then saying: "Hi, Dad!"**

**... I could've written that.**

**No schedule for this one, m'afraid, but we'll see. Anyway, please review and have a nice day.**


	2. Tam

**In my head, I had a plan for this. Not a schedule but an order. These were supposed to be set in chronological order...**

**Welp, finals had me beat and I needed to write a pick-me-up. For now, we're some time after Baste but before Capital of the Dead. I'll... explore some of what's mentioned at a later time.**

**No idea how this comes across to other people but I wrote this because... I needed something cute. I thought this was cute. Enjoy, I hope.**

* * *

The baby was a squirmy little thing, with a face as red as the fuzz on her head, flailing her pudgy fists at them as she squirmed. Her face was set into an angry scowl as she beheld them from her father's outstretched hands, disapproval clear in her blue eyes. Somehow, despite being a tiny newborn in a fuzzy pink blanket sleeper, her expression was as put-upon as anyone's could be, almost as if she were exasperated by the very world to which she was born.

In contrast, her father was _beaming._ Tam_—Tristram—_a longer-haired, robe-clad double of _his_ father in terms of appearance, flashes them a familiar grin as he holds out his child for his father to see. "So," he says cheerily. "Dad, meet your granddaughter!"

This was not the first time they'd met with Tam. Far from it, really. Elizabeth had met with him at least half a dozen times since she'd first found Meliodas and started her quest in true, usually while the carefree mage was with his seemingly-older-but-actually younger sister, Trisha (Tristiana, if you wanted to be more precise), when the two 'popped in' via teleportation to visit their father with reports on how the rest of their siblings were doing or, on one memorable occasion, to wish their father a happy birthday. Tam was a familiar face to all of them, by this point, and not just because he looked near identical to Meliodas, his father.

The _granddaughter_ on the other hand...

Was not.

Far from it, really.

She was new.

(Literally)

Meliodas. Was. _Speechless._

"Her name's Isaye," Tam continues, cheerfully ignoring their dumbfounded stares. "Her mother's the one who picked the name—Dad, d'you remember my wife, Esyllt? Anyway, I'm not sure what it means but she thought it was pretty." He thrusts her into Meliodas' arms, who, while not expecting it, while still _dazed _by the revelation that Isaye even _existed_, accepted her into his embrace with the ease of long experience, automatically cradling her against his chest and swaying until the little girl's expression shifted from irritation, to bemusement, then, finally, to an easy contentment. Tam smiled at the sight. "Isn't our baby pretty?"

"I have a granddaughter," is all Meliodas can say, the words coming out in a rush, numb-eyed and staring. His expression remained absolutely _shell-shocked_. "_I..._ have a _granddaughter."_

The aforementioned granddaughter cooed in his arms, looking much brighter now that she was properly cradled in an embrace, gurgling happily up at him, this man who looked so much like her father, and pounding cheerfully at his shoulder with her tiny fists. All he can do is look down at her as he continued to sway her in his arms, this tiny baby he never expected, little Isaye looking back with bright blue eyes and a gummy baby's grin.

"Pretty much, yeah!" Tam says, seemingly oblivious to his father's obvious turmoil. "She was born two days ago. Trisha's godmother, by the way," he adds. "She says 'hi'."

"... C-congratulations?" Elizabeth tries, still unable to stop herself from staring at both the contented-looking little Isaye in the twitchy Meliodas' grip, to the very proud and very _obvious_ new father beaming in the background. She... doesn't really know what she's supposed to do, in this sort of situation. In all of the stories her own father's told her about the Sins, he's never once mentioned that Meliodas might have children and—really, she's never been that experienced with young children like this; she's the youngest of her sisters and she didn't exactly have any cousins or nephews or nieces. "She's very pretty," she says, at last, and that is, at least, very true. "She's... beautiful..." and her voice trails off as the baby's gaze suddenly locks on hers, little Isaye twisting in Meliodas' arms as she aims her gummy grin in her direction—and it was, somehow, the most magical thing she'd ever _seen,_ this precious little girl and her darling smile. "You must be so _proud,_" she breathes, suddenly enraptured, suddenly wanting, more than anything, to get to hold her in her arms, this perfect little granddaughter—only, of course she wasn't going to ask, she could never be so presumptuous. "She's _wonderful."_

Tam looked _delighted._ "She _is_, isn't she?" he sighs, every bit the sparkling-eyed new father. "She's the most beautiful baby I've ever seen."

"She reminds me of you," Meliodas whispers, at last, now looking down at the baby, no longer quite as shell-shocked but still... not normal. "When you were a baby. It feels like, yesterday, I was holding you like this, Tristram, and now... you have a baby of your own. And she's beautiful."

Somehow, his words made something pang in Elizabeth's chest. She wants to hold him. But, somehow, she knows it wasn't the right time, not yet.

"Dad, I'm over four hundred years old!" Tam says, the words half a laugh, though his eyes were soft with an understanding Elizabeth couldn't hope to glean, not now. "I haven't been a baby in a long time."

To that Meliodas chuckles, the sound somehow wistful. "Of course not!" he says, smiling. "You're all grown up. And a dad yourself!" Delicately, he shifts the baby in his arms so that she was held facing him. "I'm proud of you," he says quietly. "I'm sure your mother would be the same."

"I know, Dad," Tam says, with a roll of his eyes. "You tell us that _all the time_."

She's mean to but she can't help but notice how the back of his neck had flushed pink, how his now bright red ears stood out sharply against his blond hair.

"Of course! I have to!" he says as-a-matter-of-factly. "So you never forget." Then, before Tam could respond, Meliodas' gaze wanders down to Isaye again, eyes warm. "She really is amazing," he breathes and, as if in response, the baby looks up at him, his tie caught in her tiny fists, eyes somehow questioning for all that she was apparently only a few days old. He smiles softly and there's something about that expression that makes Elizabeth's cheeks turn red at the sight of it. It was so... _gentle,_ and... somehow familiar. "You know you're amazing, don't you?"

"Of course she does," Tam says, looking almost offended. "I've told her everyday." Then, with a more teasing look. "Dad, can I have my baby back? I don't want her to get confused about who's her dad here."

And for the first time, he actually laughs. "Nishishi! C'mon, kiddo, let me have my fun! I haven't held a baby like this since Triss and that was..." his voice trails off as little Isaye raised her little hand to his face, tiny fingers unfurling to clutch at his cheek, eyes fixed on his as she smiled—no, _beamed, _her face alight. "Aren't you the most amazing thing in the _world?" _he cooes, by all appearances, absolutely, openly _enraptured_. "Hiya, Isaye, I'm your granddad. I'm so happy I finally got to meet you..."

Tam was smiling. "Dad, she was born barely five days ago. You didn't even know she existed until just now."

He is very cheerfully ignored by the enraptured new grandfather. "As your granddad, I'm going to spoil you _senseless," _he was telling the baby, who was still staring up at him with the biggest smile, seemingly just as taken with him as he was with her. "Would you like that, Isaye? Would you like your granddad to spoil you _senseless?!"_

For a moment, her smile drops.

And, his, perforce, does the same.

Then, squirming, she leans against his chest, hooking her fists around his shoulders, gurgling as she did. It might've just been Elizabeth's imagination, but going by the happiness of the sound, she thought it might've been laughter.

And the position...

It might've been just a coincidence, of course.

But it looked like a hug.

Elzabeth couldn't help herself.

"_Awww."_

"She really is something, isn't she?" Tam breathes. His eyes were sparkling. "My little girl."

As for Meliodas.

He had stars in his eyes.

"... I'm going to buy you a _pony."_

Tam laughs. "Dad, she's barely a week old."

"It'll be a _magic_ pony," he promises intently. "Would you like that?!"

_"Dad!"_

Then, finally, he looks up, eyes finding hers easily, as they always did. "Come over here, Elizabeth," he calls out, beaming fit to break his own face. "Look at her! Come look at my granddaughter. Isn't she beautiful?"

"She is," she says. "She really is, Sir Meliodas, she's wonderful."

"Come closer," he prompts her. "Look... she has... her eyes..."

He doesn't elaborate further but Tam does before she can ask. "My mother's," he says simply. "Her name was Betsy."

For a moment, she feels a flash of jealousy but when he looks at her, longing and just a little sad, she forcefully quashes it down, ashamed for even feeling such a thing.

"It's okay," Tam tells her, his smile wistful, understanding. "Would you like to hold her, Lady Elizabeth?"

Her breath catches in her throat. "P-Please!"

It's odd. She's never really had to hold any babies before—it's not like she has any nieces or nephews or young cousins, after all—but it feels as natural as anything, accepting this wiggly little baby from Meliodas' arms, shushing her protests as she does and cradling her against her chest, the way she saw Meliodas do. She's surprisingly heavy, little Isaye, but she's a warm, precious weight she would've borne a hundred times over. "Hello, Isaye," she murmurs gently into her little ear. "My name is Elizabeth. I'm so pleased to meet you..."

Little baby Isaye looks up at her curiously, almost confused now that she was being held by a person not near-identical to her father, before finally giving her a big, gummy smile, her dark blue eyes sparkling as she reached out grab at her cheeks with tiny, fat fists, happy to be held even in a stranger's arms.

Elizabeth melts.

"Look at you..." she breathes, almost awestruck. She didn't know why but, somehow, she wanted to cry and laugh, all at the same time. "You're already amazing, aren't you? Oh, Tristram, you must be so proud..."

"I prefer Tam," he corrects, though his voice was quiet and, somehow, sad. Now, both he and Meliodas were standing side-by-side, looking at her and the baby with soft, warm eyes. From afar, Tam had seemed identical to his father but now, up close, standing right next to him, it was so much easier to pick out the differences between them, like how his skin was paler, how he didn't have Meliodas' signature cowlicks, how he didn't seem quite as muscular, and how his eyes were closer to hazel than green, their pretty color ringed in dark blue. He was a beautiful child, but knowing who his father was—

_He's older than me_, Elizabeth has to remind herself. _He's not a child... even if he is Sir Meliodas' son..._

But she couldn't help it. Somehow, even holding Tam's daughter in her arms, knowing how old he was, there was just something about him that sparked something... _maternal _in her

Which was _silly_, she knew full well that she could never replace his mother, that no matter how she felt, there was just no way she could replace his real mother, not in his heart... or in Meliodas'...

But she couldn't help what she felt. And, somehow, she couldn't bring herself to feel all too guilty about it, not now, with Isaye content in her arms, the both of them looking at her with such soft eyes...

(Maybe, someday, she could fill in for her, this Betsy who she knew had died, just as Liz had before her. She doesn't know anything about either of them but she's sure she could love them both just as much and—)

"I'm sorry," she says aloud, forcefully quashing that thought before it could become anything more. "Tam, I mean. She really is wonderful. I'm so happy for you..."

"Me, too," he says, smiling. "And I'm glad she got to meet you... Lady Elizabeth."

For a moment, they only smile in silence, Meliodas, Tam, and Elizabeth, Isaye a warm weight in her arms, enjoying the moment as it lasted, a moment of peace amidst all the strife, where she could pretend she was as much of a part of their family as anyone, that the rest of her own family was safe and this baby in his arms was a grandchild of her own, no matter how young she was...

It felt so _selfish_ but... just for a moment, just for now, she lets herself enjoy it.

Then.

"Captaaaain! We're baaack—oh! Heya, Tam, when did you get here?"

Diane was the first to arrive, cresting the hill where they'd set up the Boar Hat in a single bound, a brace of dusk bison hanging from her hand.

"Hey, Cap'n, they didn't have any thirteen-year old Gloucester wine left so I got ten-year old Gloucester instead. That okay? ... oh, hey, squirt, long time, no see."

Ban was the second, slouching disinterestedly into view, a crate of wine balanced on his shoulder.

"_Elizabeth!_ He didn't do any funny business while we were gone, now did he—what's with the baby?"

Hawk came bounding into view, not stopping until he'd nearly barreled into her legs, skidding to a halt just before he did.

Tam waves, looking almost timid. She instinctively moves closer to him, adjusting her hold on baby Isaye who'd begun to cry, agitated by all the sudden noise and commotion.

In contrast, Meliodas was beaming.

"Guys, you're just in time!" he exclaims. "Come meet my granddaughter!"

There was a beat of silence.

"My daughter," Tam clarifies, moving to take Isaye from her arms. She feels oddly empty without her in them, though she tries to quash it down. "Her name's Isaye."

Then.

_"Granddaughter?!"_

* * *

Later that evening, when almost everyone was asleep.

"... I'm so sorry. About Esyllt."

"Oh for—don't be! Dad, she was sick since the day we met. We both knew it was a risk. But we kept trying anyway." A long exhale. "Dad... Not everything bad that happens to us is your fault."

"... heh. You really are like your mom, you know that, kiddo?"

"You tell me every time I visit."

"Well, it's true! You are." A brief pause. "Tam... "

Raised hands. "I know, I know, I won't try to remind her about anything. We all know the rules, Dad."

"... I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Dad. I'd be the same, if it'd been Esyllt." A pause. "This business with the Holy Knights... you really think it's going to lead to...?"

"Yes. I'm sure of it." Clenched fists. "... it's going to be more dangerous than ever, being around us. You, Trisha, and—and Isaye should probably stay away for a while."

A nod. "I know... you will come visit, right? The school's a safe place; Auntie made sure of it way before she passed us the reins."

"... I'll try."

"_Dad."_

A grin. "I will! Isaye's not gonna spoil herself, after all!" A pause. "Hey... does Merlin—"

A shake of his head. "I haven't heard from Auntie in years. I wrote to her about Isaye before I left to see you but..."

"I get it. Just... be on the look out for her, okay?"

"Of course." Then. "Dad, we've been talking... not just me and Trisha, me and _everyone._ We've already made plans for the Holy War that's coming. We're going to keep each other safe. But..." A long inhale. "Dad, we want you to promise... we want you to promise to keep yourself _safe. _We know about mom, you... our shitty grandparents_—"_

_"_Heh."

"—but we want you to _swear_ to us that you'll do your best for _yourself _too, okay? Not just for Mom. Could you do that? For _us?"_

"I'd do anything for you."

"That's not an answer, Dad. _Promise _me."

"... alright."

"I love you, Dad."

"I know. You say it every time you visit."

"Of course! I have to! So you never forget."

"_—_pfft! Tam, you really are all grown up, now, aren't you?!"

"Nishishi! Are you surprised, Dad?"

"I'm proud! I'm proud of you, kiddo. You've grown up well." A pause. "And I love you, too. All of you."

"I know. So _live. _Please. For _all _of us."

He only smiles.

* * *

In the moment before he finally fully crossed the door back to the mortal realm from Purgatory, the power, the _birthright,_ he'd reclaimed coursing through the entirety of his soul, he remembers his son, the conversation they had, all that time ago.

He smiles.

"... Sorry."

* * *

**... This was cute in my head.**

**Fun fact: Chronologically speaking, Tam's the third eldest of his living kids. Triss, in turn, was the youngest.**

**Anyway, feedback keeps me going and have a nice day.**


	3. Tana

**I initially planned this update being the more humorous Trisha chapter but then I hit a block and this happened. So, technically speaking, this was all the block's fault. This is set in the month-long timeskip between chapters 177-178/season 2, episode 20**

**... Well, enjoy!**

* * *

As it had been since the nightmare had begun, the skies were choked with ash and soot and the air smelled of blood and death, thick enough that even their most experienced sometimes choked at the scent of it. In the aftermath of yet another raid, yet another wave of gray demons sent to batter at their walls, yet another of the territories under Liones protection ransacked, yet another series of horrific, horrifying events they just couldn't stop no matter how much they _tried,_ there wasn't a soul alive who didn't feel the strain. And Gilthunder, acting as the escort for the scant few they'd been able to save during the last demon raid, felt it worse than almost everyone else.

The village they'd been in had once housed just a little over five hundred. They'd only _(barely)_ been able to save fifteen. They did their best, they always did but it was too little, too late _(like it always was, these days)_. They were overworked, overstretched, and just so far out of their leagues, it wasn't even funny, more so because he was absolutely sure that—

_He could do this better. If he were alive, he could've saved them, he could've driven away all the demons and_—

It wasn't the time for it and Gilthunder knew but he couldn't help but think it as he trundled along with the mangled few they'd gotten out from the meatgrinder that had once been renowned as one of the most scenic places to visit in all of Britannia. Fifteen. They'd saved fifteen out of five hundred and those fifteen weren't anywhere near in good shape. He himself had badly burnt his arm blocking a gray demon's kamikaze strike. And yet, this was a better result than most. This was actually one of their more _successful_ missions. _This._

It makes him _sick _that this was what counted as a victory these days and he has no one to blame but himself for his weakness and the Commandments for _everything _they'd done, both to _him _and to Britannia as a whole.

(In his ideal world, he could stop the Ten Commandments, end them, make them _pay _for all they'd done with blood and steel.

In his ideal world, _he _wouldn't have died the way he did.

In his ideal world, _he_ would never die.)

He closes his eyes and forces his thoughts to the situation at hand. "We're here," he calls out to the tents that now lined the road to Liones and the evacuation centers in the capital proper. "From Izema. I've brought fifteen, all injured."

As usual, the healing tents were close to overflowing. Given the state of emergency, acting in their capacity as the overall heads of the druids of Britannia, Jenna and Zaneli had called on druids from all the corners of Britannia to work in conjunction with the kingdom knights to aid in the fight against the Demon Clan—yet despite the best efforts of the _hundreds_ of healers who'd complied with the order, there was never enough of them to fully handle the constantly growing number of those... _afflicted, _for the lack of a better term, by the Commandments' attacks.

Yet, for all the strain they had to be feeling, so far, all of the healers he'd met had remained nothing less than absolutely professional. At his call, three figures dressed in the distinctive cowled, white robes of a recognized healer came rushing to the cart behind his horse, their staves already aglow with the beginnings of healing spells.

"Thank you. We'll take them from here," one of them told him briskly, though her gaze was fixed on her patients as her companions began to chant, their staves all pulsing in time with their incantations. "Good work. You should get some rest." Then, without looking away: "The Diamond Tent has been reserved exclusively for you knights. My colleague, Tana, will see to your injuries there. Get that arm of yours looked at before it falls off. Some of the other knights are already there."

"Certainly," he says tiredly. "Thank you."

In truth, when he heads off to the so-called Diamond Tent, he has no intention of seeing a healer. His arm wasn't that bad and he had no intention to waste anyone's time or energy. They just didn't have the luxury to spare healing minor wounds, not when the healers were so overworked, there were so many who still needed saving, and there was just never enough of them to go around.

Never enough. Just... there was never enough of them to go around. Whether they be knights or healers or anything in between, there was never enough. There hadn't been since—

—This wasn't the time to be thinking about that.

The only difference between the so-called Diamond Tent and all the rest was the Holy Knight's sigil emblazoned on the entrance, stark against the white canvas. Aside from that, it was the same as all the rest. Inside, it was stuffy, the air thick with the scent of blood and sweat. A number of cots were set up within and, as expected, more than one was occupied by his fellow knights, some of whom he could recognize. There was Jericho, dozing fitfully in a camp chair next to an unconscious Gustaf, and Marmas, working out the dents from his armor. Howzer was nowhere in sight. He tries to hope for the best but it's been difficult to stay optimistic ever since _that_ day, two absolutely _hellish_ weeks ago. If even _he _could fall—

—out of the corner of his eye, he suddenly spots a diminutive figure with a head of fluffy, dandelion-yellow hair, two strands going up in distinctive cowlicks.

His breath caught in his throat. He doesn't realize he's moving until he's already right behind that small, _familiar _figure, all but lunging as what felt like actual _hope _soars in his chest, not at all marred by the disbelief that _he _could be alive, that it could actually be—

_"Meliodas?!"_

The figure turns and it's—

"Excuse me?"

... not him.

Of course, it wasn't.

The stranger stood at around the same height as his lost idol of a mentor and had the same head of fluffy, dandelion-yellow hair. But the face, voice, and figure were all decidedly feminine, and her eyes, though similar in shape, were closer to blue than green. While she was small, she was unmistakably _older, _perhaps at around her thirties. Her robe and staff, symbols of her status as a druid healer, further highlighted the differences between them. From behind, the hair had looked identical but now that she was facing him, he could see the braid that fell over her shoulder, solidly blonde at first glance but threaded with silver at the second. She was not him. Of course, she wasn't.

Meliodas was dead. He already knew that. Why would he even _think_ otherwise? He'd seen it for himself. His old friend had died, he hadn't been able to do anything but _watch_, and now the world had gone to hell and he was just, as he'd been with his father and all the tragedies that followed, too little, too late.

He's so caught up in his own thoughts, he doesn't realize she's speaking until moments later.

"—I'm sorry, sir; I hadn't noticed your arrival," she was saying, her voice soft. Her gaze was concerned as she examined him, her staff glowing as she tapped it to his injured arm then to the bruises on his face, healing them instantly. Even reflecting the golden light of her magic, her eyes remained unmistakably blue. "Are you alright, now?"

_No._

"Y-yes," he manages. "I'm sorry—please, excuse me."

Eyes burning, he turns on his heel and flees the stuffy confines of the tent without looking back. He can only hope that she didn't take offense, that she didn't hear the quiver in his voice when he'd spoken because—

_Nothing was alright._

—He doesn't think he could've kept it together if he stayed there even a second longer.

* * *

"Was that Gilthunder? What's up with him?"

Ban had barely entered the Diamond Tent when Gilthunder had barreled past him. He didn't look hurt or anything, so he wasn't too worried, but still. They weren't exactly close but he owed it to _him, _at least, to look out for him.

"I'm not sure, sir," an unfamiliar voice replies. "He never told me his name. I have healed his wounds, however. Are you here for healing as well?"

His lips twitch up in a smile he doesn't feel as he turned to face the stranger. "That's a good one. You new here or something—" Then he gives a start as he fully took in the sight of her. For just a heartbeat, he'd thought it was—but no, of course not. But at the same time...

"It is my first time in this area," she was saying, seemingly oblivious to his blatant curiosity. "But I've been a healer for many years if that's what you're asking."

"... I recognize you," he says suddenly, making her blink at the non sequitur. "You're... one of the _Captain's_ kids, aren't you? Your dad, his name's Meliodas, isn't it?"

She stares at him with open surprise. "You know my father?" she asks softly. "And... of me?"

He nods. "He's shown me pictures. You're... Trista, right?"

"Trista is my younger sister. I am Tristana," she corrects. She didn't sound offended. Her expression was curious as she looked at him anew. "You may call me Tana if you would prefer it. And you are correct. My father is indeed the warrior, Meliodas, and my mother, the druid, Alyzabeth. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir...?"

"Ban," he says, maybe a beat later than he should've. He'd been staring... "The Fox's Sin of Greed, Ban."

It hadn't been difficult to recognize her. After the funeral, whenever they drank alone together, the Captain loved to show off pictures of all of his kids, both living and dead, boasting about them and their many achievements, a list that included things from inventing longevity potions to learning how to tie shoes at age four. He pretended to complain back then but they were good memories. Some of his best.

Now, they only make him hurt.

"How are you acquainted with my father?" she asks, startling him out of his thoughts.

"Your dad was one of the Seven Deadly Sins, same as me. He was my Captain," he says brusquely. Then, with some hesitation: "... And he was my best friend."

_For all the good that did for him._

"Ah, I've heard tales of that group. Although I hadn't known my father was the same Meliodas as the Dragon's Sin," she muses. "It's been quite a while since I've last seen him. Is he well?"

..._ fuck._

"He's dead, kid," he tells her bluntly, voice bitter, knuckles turning white. Fucking hell, his _kids_ didn't know yet. In all the chaos that happened, he'd never even thought about—shit, how the hell were they going to tell them? He'd promised him he'd look out for them all those years ago but when the time came, he forgot they even— "Sorry you had to hear this from me."

All the blood seemed to drain from her face. Earlier, he'd thought she looked older than her dad but now... she looked like a kid. A lost kid. "I... are you sure?" she asks weakly. "Please, are you certain...?"

He tries to sound gentle but the pain, the _grief, _spills into the words, makes them sound sharp as knives. "Saw it with my own eyes. I couldn't stop it."

She took in a deep, shuddering breath, knuckles turning white around her staff as she seemed to try and recompose herself. He lets her. If there was anything he could do for her, he would do it. He'd promised as much, long, long ago.

"How did it happen?" she asks, at last. "My father... how did he die?"

_Like a lamb to slaughter. He was butchered. I couldn't save him. I couldn't stop them. I'm sorry._

"There was a fight," he says, instead, all in one breath. "The Ten Commandments, all of them. He didn't make it."

Tristana closed her eyes. "Oh," she whispers. "Oh, Father..."

Even now, after all the death and despair he's seen since the Ten Commandments had begun their takeover in full, the pain in her voice makes him feel raw inside all over again, makes the guilt and grief burn hot in his throat. He wants to say something, anything, to make her feel better but he can't find the words to say.

So, instead, he says: "I'm sorry, kid. I tried to save him."

Despite everything, despite her having been the one to have been told she'd just lost her _father,_ she's the one to reach out, placing a hand on his shoulder and giving it a squeeze. "It's not your fault. I don't blame you," she says, her voice soft and pained but gentle and without recrimination. Her hand was a comforting warmth on his shoulder. "Thank you, for trying."

_It's not your fault._

_I don't blame you._

_Thank you, for trying._

He can't goddamn take it. It's fucking _hysterical, _that's what it was. He laughs and laughs until his chest is aching from the burn and the others in the tent start staring at him, either out of concern or irritation, he neither knows nor cares, but he can't help it. His best friend is dead, he failed to make a damn difference when he came to save him, and here was his kid, who didn't know her dad died weeks back, fucking _absolving_ him of his sin and even _thanking_ him for trying. It was just so... so _typical_.

_I can't believe this. Fucking hell, Captain. You, your kids... one of a kind, all of you. You're all unbelievable_

"You really are his kid, aren't you?" he has to ask. "You're just like your dad. And I don't mean that as a compliment," he adds gruffly, though without any heat.

She smiles at him. This was the first time they've met but the expression was a familiar one and it makes him _hurt_. "You aren't the first to tell me that. But thank you."

He closes his eyes, looks away from that smile. "Have you heard from the others?" he asks, instead. "Your siblings, are they safe?" _I swore I would protect them. For all the good it did to_ him.

She closes her eyes for a moment before answering. "I've heard from some, not all. I know that Tam and Trisha have closed access to the school and that Tristen's grandmother took him into hiding, but I've yet to hear from anyone else. I'm sure they're fine, however," she adds, with a faint little smile. "Father raised us knowing to defend ourselves."

He snorts a laugh, this time mostly genuine. "That sounds like the Captain I know," he says. "What about you, kid?"

She smiles as she raised her staff, setting its tip alight with a small ball of sparkling light. "Though I cannot fight as I know my father could, I can defend myself. My mother had been a powerful druid and I'm sure you're well aware of my father's capabilities." Then she raises her eyes to his level. "I know I would never last on the battlefield but I will help you to the best of my abilities. I am an adept healer.

He doesn't mean to but he actually smiles. "I know," he says, almost fondly. "The Captain bragged about you for hours, once. He's really proud of you."

"I know," she says, smiling, eyes twinkling. If it weren't for the color, he could almost pretend that—but no, of course not. "He'd say it _all the time_." Then, she pauses, looking at him carefully from the corner of her eye. The expression was so heartbreakingly familiar, it made him want to scream, to break things, to go beg forgiveness.

Instead, he just says: "What is it?"

"Lord Fox's Sin," she begins, and _no_, by all the creators of their shithole of a world, she shouldn't be calling him like _this._

(She should be cursing his name. Her dad died because he failed him)

"Just call me Ban," he interrupts gruffly, eyes scrunched shut. "Any brat of the Captain's can call me by name."

"Sir Ban, then," she corrects. "You know of me, correct?"

"He showed me a bunch of pictures of all of you," he says, with a nod. "It was hard to get him to shut up about you all, once he got going."

She looks down. "You do not know how unusual that is," she says quietly. "You must understand, he normally keeps us a very well-guarded secret. He must have trusted you deeply."

He snorts. "For all the good that did him," he says bitterly.

"And I'm sure it was a lot," she interjects. She meets his gaze evenly when he looks at her, her blue eyes calm and unyielding and, so similar to her father's, he has to look away. "Sir Ban, despite how I may seem, I am far older than you may think," she says, expression solemn. "I—forgive my presumption but I'd already known my father for decades even before you were born."

He barks a laugh. "I can guess. What are you trying to say, kid? Get to the point."

She smiles, though the expression was a sad one, an understanding one, a heartbreakingly _familiar _one. "Sir Ban, I have not seen my father in many a year but I'm certain that whatever happened, he wouldn't have blamed _you."_

He stops.

He thinks of that awful day, that awful _moment_, when, at the peak of his power, his body burning with stolen strength, all he could do was watch as the seventh sword pierced his best friend's heart and the light faded from his eyes

He thinks of the fucking _corpse_ Elizabeth, heartbroken, grieving, and gods-damned _delusional,_ insisted on keeping with her in the Boar's Hat, lain out over what had once been its living owner's bed, a body repaired but lifeless and dwarfed by its own bed-sheets.

He thinks of the day when they'd reunited after he'd left for the Fairy King's Forest, before it all went to hell, when he understood he'd been forgiven even before he'd begun to apologize, when, without once referring to it directly, his friend had let him know he cared about him.

And he thinks of how it felt back during the moment of the incident, when he'd stood over his already battered friend as he was bleeding out, when he readied himself to try and kill him for Elaine, his friend not once looking at him with hatred. Only understanding.

His eyes burn for the first time since the week after the sight of his best friend's corpse had been seared into his eyelids and he has to leave because he knows that if he sees her looking at him again like that, with that same _understanding, _he won't be able to handle it.

"I know," he says bitterly. "He was a damned good friend."

Without another word, he turns on his heel and leaves, and if he's shaking, she does not comment. She only watches as he disappears from her field of vision. He never once looks back.

"He is a damned and good man, that is very true," she whispers in his wake, hands clasping together around her healer's staff. "And I know he wouldn't have even thought of blaming you."

Then she releases a sigh, looking up to the ceiling as if hoping for a sign.

"Once he comes back, I'll make sure to tell him to let you know that, Sir Ban, because I'm sure you're a damned good man, too."

* * *

**Fun fact: Tana's mother is the same Alyzabeth as in my oneshot Stagnation. The reason she and Meliodas had left her druid clan was that Alyzabeth had gotten pregnant with Tana. Complete accident but one they were very happy about.**

**Alyzabeth would die within the year of Tana's birth. Meliodas was completely out of it when he did what he did. Merlin would stay with them even after he'd come back just to make sure he wouldn't relapse and b****ecause Tana grew up with Merlin around, she was told of her mother's curse very early on****. The guilt for doing what he did when Tana was there and needed him nearly ate him alive and, in this universe, he hasn't repeated it since. Out of the kids he has, though she doesn't really remember, she's the only one with the "privilege" of having gone without both parents for any length of time.**

**Anyways, all feedback's appreciated and I hope you have a nice day**


	4. Drystan

"The ground can be pretty tricky around here," Meliodas warns. "Be careful, alright?"

"You're telling _me _to be careful? You serious, Cap'n?"

He didn't seem to really hear. "Just saying," he says distractedly. "Watch your step."

He shoves his hands into his pockets and moves to follow, head kept down. "Alright," he says quietly. "I gotcha."

It was the middle of the night. How far they were from the Boar Hat, Ban didn't know. The Captain had had to fly to get them here, Ban in his arms, and that trip had been so quick, Ban had barely been able to see where they were going. Still, he wasn't complaining and he wasn't going to. After what had just happened—

_("Elizabeth will die in three days.")_

(He was so _stupid,_ fucking _hell_, he can't get over how stupid, how insensitive, how _self-centered_ he was)

—This kind of trip wasn't even a nuisance. He doesn't care about the late hour or the distance or anything else. All he cared about was finding some way, _any _way, to make things better for the Captain.

(Not that there was anything his useless ass could do but fuck everything up for everyone)

He's willing to do anything for the Captain, always has been, but now even more so. A late-night trip was nothing. So when the Captain had shown up at his door earlier this evening, away from her bedside for the first time since the Princess had... _remembered,_ asking him if he could come with him for a little while... well, what else could he have done but agree?

(He couldn't beg for forgiveness, not when he wasn't worth forgiving)

They landed in the middle of a valley he had never before seen, bordered between a pair of towering mountains, with rich, thick grass that reached up well past his knees. It seemed to stretch out endlessly into the horizon. Aside from the two of them, there wasn't a soul in sight, whether human, animal or anything in between. The night was calm, quiet, and perfectly still. In a place with flora this overgrown, he would've expected insects, birds, or some other kind of wildlife. Instead, there was nothing. Just silence.

"Have you ever heard of Mount Vesvia?" the Captain suddenly asks, breaking the silence. "It used to be famous."

He's more than a little blindsided by the question but shakes his head. "Can't say I have."

The Captain didn't look surprised. He points to the mountain on their left, large enough to cast them in its shadow. "Over there. That's Mount Vesvia. There was a legend about it, back in the day, about how it's the cage for a monster."

He thinks to their surroundings, the absolute _quiet _of the environment around them, the dead silence where the noise of wildlife should've been "Is it?" he has to ask.

He shrugs. "Maybe. Who knows. Whether it is or not, Mount Vesvia is dangerous. There was a town here, once. Ipipome. It was buried after Mount Vesvia erupted." The grass reached well past his waist as he kicked at a piece of turf, eyes fixed on the ground as he nodded toward it. "We're standing right on top of it."

"On top of...?!"

"Yeah," he says quietly. He tries for a smile but it was so obviously false, it almost hurt to see. "Welcome to Ipipome."

He'd never even _heard _of that name before. It should've been difficult to picture but, somehow, there was something about this place that made it all too easy to imagine a city like the Liones capital lying hidden, _buried_, under the tall grass. He can picture it clear as day, faces, bodies, buried beneath their feet, hands reaching up to grasp at anyone with the misfortune to come within their reach.

(They could go ahead and take him if they wanted. It might be better than living like this, like the useless _shit_ that he is)

He shakes his head. This wasn't the time for that. "What're we doing here, Cap'n? Shouldn't you..." There's a lump in his throat at the thought but he swallows it down as he presses on. "Shouldn't you be with the princess?"

He shakes his head. "Elizabeth isn't going to die tonight," he says, as-a-matter-of-factly. His voice is filled with a numb, detached sort of certainty and his gaze was distant. "She won't die until the third day and no matter what, she always dies right before my eyes."

_Fucking hell._

No matter what Ban'd gone through, he could never complain, not when the Captain, who he had the _gall_ to call his best friend when he wasn't even worth the dirt on his shoes, had to go through the _shit _that he did.

"Besides, this is important, too," he was saying. He then looks at him before visibly forcing himself to smile. His eyes were numb, hollow and his smile was stiff, lifeless. It was hard to look at him. "Besides. Do you remember what you said back then, back during Triss'..." he falters. "Triss' funeral?"

He freezes.

"Cap'n," he says carefully, very, very carefully, because holy _fuck._ "Are... are you telling me that...?"

If one of his kids died on top of the Princess remembering _again..._

If it were him in the Captain's position, he would've gone insane years ago. To think he could've said to his _face_ that—

He looks away. "No," he says softly. "It's... sort of like that but no. If it were, I—" he shakes his head and pastes that awful, dead smile back onto his face. "Anyway, it's... sort of related to that. Follow me."

He does. Together, they walk in the unnatural stillness of that valley, the moon bright overhead, the only sound to be heard that of their footsteps and the sound of the grass as they pushed through it. As it had been back then, the Captain took the lead, Ban following like a shadow. They spent that walk in silence.

As it turned out, their destination was an enormous ridge of dark rock nearly five times his height, one jutted sharply out from the earth like a black island in a sea of green. Beneath it, he could just about see a gnarled old tree that had grown from under its shadow so that its trunk had grown almost parallel to the ridge, its topmost branches just barely noticeable where they bent to reach for the sky. From his point of view, it looked almost like the stone had squashed the tree. It is here that the Cap'n stops, forces in a deep breath, before beckoning him to follow as he stepped around the ridge then under it, one hand tracing the contours of the tree beneath it before he finally reached the base of it, where, in its shadow, were—

_Ah._

Ban stops as his Cap' went forward to kneel before the nearer of the little white graves. His shoulders had sagged. His posture was stiff. His knuckles were white. "Hey, Drystan," he says softly. "It's been a while, hasn't it, kiddo?"

The grave here is not at all like the one they'd visited all those years ago. Triss' had a proper headstone, a stele that had obviously been freshly cut new for her, one with her name had been carved neatly into the stone. Here, the gravestone looks like nothing more than a pillow-sized boulder nestled against the ancient tree, and the letters forming the name are roughly cut and written in a handwriting that he found more than a little familiar. It is old and worn, the name inscribed almost unreadable from the moss and degradation it had undergone. Ban could only barely make it out. "Drystan, huh?" When his friend didn't answer, he gave a low whistle. "You sure like that name a lot, huh?"

Meliodas shook his head. "I'm not the one who picked it," he says quietly. "She did."

Ban looks down. His throat burned. "His mother?"

"I always let her pick," he says simply. "Elizabeth. She was born as Elisabet at that time. But everyone just called her Lisbet." He fumbles for a moment as he stands. Ban hadn't noticed but he'd brought a bag, a satchel that hung from his waist and from it, he pulls out a scrapbook, its binding cracked leather, its pages yellowing. He's seen a lot of the Captain's scrapbooks after Triss' funeral but this one, he's sure he's never seen this one before. It looked so old, he half expected it to crumble into dust the moment the Captain opened it. It didn't and the pictures inside seemed as vivid as if they were new. "This is what she looked like."

While he was always eager to show off pictures of his children, he had never shown pictures of their mother before. He understood (or thought he did) and so he'd never pried, but he'd always been curious. Knowing what he does now, the thought makes him almost nauseous now but he forces himself to look regardless. It was the least he could do. Anything the Captain asked, he would do.

The picture he pointed out was that of a woman in an airy blue dress, her face that of the princess Elizabeth he knew, with striking, ink-black curls long enough to fall to her waist. It was drawn to such a lifelike degree, he could've sworn she was about to start moving on the page. There were so many little details that kept popping out at him the longer he stared at it—a spray of freckles across her sternum, a twinkle in the blue of her visible eye, a small scar at her left eyebrow—all rendered with such loving detail, it was almost hard to look at. It was a work of art. As always. All the pictures he'd been shown of the children, they were always works of art.

"... she was incredible, you know," Meliodas says, breaking the silence. "I mean, she's _Elizabeth_, so it's a given that she would be—but still. Lisbet was amazing." He traces the black of the drawn Lisbet's hair and lets out a long sigh, eyes turning distant. "I was always worried about her," he says quietly. "She was sickly even before we met and there were weeks when she was too weak to get out of bed. And even on her good days, it felt like, everywhere we went, there was just always something to remind her of..."

_Fucking hell._

"You don't need to say anything, Cap'n," he says quickly. His voice had come out rough. "You don't have to say anything if you don't want to."

He only shakes his head, smiling once more, the expression, for once, seeming genuine and all the more heartbreaking for it. "She kept remembering things," he finally manages, words all one exhale. "Little things. But all the same, it was like she was always close to remembering."

"Cap'n..." He can' help it. He wants to say something. Anything. Anything that could make things better. Anything that could help. _Anything. _But he doesn't know what to say. Like always, whenever things were dire and the people he cared about needed help, he can't do _anything _but fuck things up and hurt the people he cared about. He's just—

He swallows as the Captain then pressed the scrapbook into his shaking hands. For a moment, both were silent as Meliodas brought out other things from his satchel—a sponge and a bottle of some kind of fluid—before he rolled up his sleeves and began to scrub the grave clean, the motions obviously familiar and well-practiced.

"Drystan was my first," he says, without looking up from his work. "Before he was born, I didn't even think—I didn't think I could ever become a..." he swallows. The sound was rough, almost phlegmy. Ban was good enough not to say a word. "And even while Lisbet was pregnant, there were just so many problems—she was just constantly sick, the town was constantly under attack, there was never enough food... but when the day came that Drystan was born... he was just _perfect._ He was the most beautiful boy I'd ever seen. He was... he was our _baby._ He was _ours._"

His voice was raw with emotion as he finally stood, his task completed. The Captain wasn't a person anyone could call tall but the gravestone looked just tiny under his hands. He was still smiling that awful, _horrible_ smile, and knowing _everything _he did now, Ban almost wanted to scream. He wanted to break the curse, strangle both the Demon King and the Supreme Deity with his bare hands for even _thinking _of doing such a thing, tell his best friend that he would somehow make things better—

But he can't promise _any _of that and the Captain deserved so much more than the false promises that are all he can offer.

Without saying a word, the Captain reaches out to turn the page on the scrapbook in his hands. The picture shown now was a drawing of a young boy in a green tunic, maybe twelve or thirteen-years-old. His hair hung loosely to his shoulder in a tousled shock of black, drawn back from his face by a white bandanna. His eyes were different colors, his left a soft amber, his right, the Captain's green. He was drawn smiling, the expression open and just a bit cheeky, a dimple prominent on his left cheek. He didn't look much like the Captain but he thought he could see something of Princess Elizabeth in the curve of his cheeks, and maybe a little of the Captain in the arch of his nose. It was, again, so lovingly detailed, it was almost hard to look at, especially knowing that—

Fuck it all. He was just the worst, how could he have said that to him? He should've realized—should've _remembered, _even—that what he'd gone through, the Captain had to have experienced it before, knowing about Triss and what little he did about Betha, even without knowing about the specifics about the curse and the Princess and—

"He looks just like his mom, doesn't he?" Meliodas comments. "He was the cutest thing. And he was such a great kid too, I almost couldn't believe he was _mine,_ he was just... he was just so _good."_

His voice broke on the last word and he has to take a deep shuddering breath. He looked so proud as he traced the lines of that boy's picture. So proud. And so very sad.

"Of course, he was," is all Ban can find himself saying, feeling almost numb. "He had you for a dad, didn't he?"

"Pfft." He elbows him in the stomach, though without any real force. His eyes were fixed on the picture. "I drew this the same year he'd... " He shakes his head, forces another smile. "He was thirteen when I drew this. He'd always wanted his own picture. You know, he actually drew _me_ a picture in exchange for it."

Here, his smile grew softer, more genuine, as he turned the page. "I told him he didn't have to but he wouldn't have it. Take a look."

In comparison to all the rest, this drawing was crude. On the page were two people drawn with barely more detail than stick figures, bright against the backdrop of carefully shaded-in blue. The Captain was drawn so that with his shock of blond hair, he looked like a smiling dandelion more than anything, and, holding his hand, was who he assumed to be Lisbet, her smile literally too big for her face and her hair a smear of ink. It was drawn with pastels, so vivid, the colors seemed to fly off of the page. It was bright and eyecatching but, compared to what came before, just childish, really. But the Cap'n beheld it almost as if it were sacred.

"I was a guard back then but, whenever I had the time, I would try and teach him how to draw," he reminisces. "He was so good with colors, I was sure he'd become an artist once he grew up."

He doesn't want to ask. He doesn't mean to. But all the same, the words come out before he can stop them: "What happened?"

His expression went blank. The light in his eyes died. Wordlessly, he closed the scrapbook, taking it into his arms as delicately as if it would shatter, before finally speaking. "I'm sure you've guessed it," he says, eyes blank. "We used to live here. Before Mount Vesvia had—when Ipipome was buried, I..." He falters. "I couldn't get them out in time. I was the only survivor."

It had fallen so silent, it was as if the world itself had held its breath. Ban wants to say something, anything. But there's nothing he can say that could make anything even the slightest bit better. Nothing he can do. He turns away but, when he does, the grave on the other side of the tree catches his eye. The name on it read 'Lisbet'.

_Captain..._

_Damn it. Just... fuck._

He wants to say something to him. Anything. But the words all get clogged in his throat and finds he can't say a thing. All he can do is listen. All he can do is be there for him (however little that might have meant). All he can do is stay.

"Back then, that time I had with Lisbet and Drystan... " Meliodas says, the words halting, hesitant. "It was the happiest I'd ever been and it all just—" He stops. Releases a shaky breath. "Gone. She was already dying when I got to her and Drystan, he... " He shakes his head, cradles that scrapbook against his chest. "These are all I have left of them."

The scrapbook looked so small in his hands, so _fragile_. It looked like it could have crumbled at the slightest touch.

"I'm sorry."

He doesn't know why he said that. The words were out before he could stop them.

The Captain flashes him a smile, this time, mostly genuine. "Why? It's not _your _fault."

He just closes his eyes. "... Why're you showing me this, Captain?" he finally asks. "Why?"

"... Tana visited me a few nights after I came back," he says. A faint smile had crossed his face, small but soft and wistful. "She told me you two'd met while I was... you know."

Ban closes his eyes. Nods. "We have."

"She told me you were blaming yourself somethin' fierce," he continues, eyes fixed on his face, his eyes understanding, caring, and _damned _hard to look at. "Why? It wasn't your fault. You did nothing wrong."

_I did nothing right._

_"Ban,"_ he says forcefully. "I don't blame you. Not then or now. You didn't know. You _couldn't_ have known. I never told you."

_Yeah. But I should've realized_—_I already knew you'd lost someone. I should've never said that._

"... You really are unbelievable," is all he say, instead, shaking his head, forcing himself to smile. "You and her, both." Then he looks over to his Captain with something of a smirk. "I can see why you're so proud of her, Cap'n. She really is a good kid. A great girl."

He brightens. For the first time since the Princess had remembered and he got to find out just how much _shit _his best friend had to go through, he actually, visibly brightens and, for a moment, it made his own heart feel light. "She is, isn't she?" he says—no, _sighs_, pride obvious in his eyes. "She's just like her mother."

"Hah. Drinks like you though," he says. After their inauspicious first meeting, he'd come by that night to try to apologize for how he'd reacted, not that she seemed offended about it. At some point, they'd gone out to swap stories about his best friend, her dear old dad, and the night ended with him blackout drunk and her not even tipsy, still guzzling ales like a woman starved. That month without the Captain had been one of the worst times in his life but that memory... it wasn't a bad one.

Meliodas didn't seem amused though. He stopped right in his tracks. "My daughter was _drinking?"_

He snorts a laugh. "She's almost ten times older than I am, Cap'n," he drawls, feeling just a bit more like himself. "Cut her some slack. She's safe with me."

"It's not that," he says, shaking his head. "I trust her, she can keep herself safe. I was just surprised... she doesn't really drink that much."

He sobers. "She'd just gotten some bad news." He knows he doesn't have to elaborate. "We all needed it."

Meliodas looks down. "I guess so," he says quietly. Then he sighs. "Honestly, she already knew I'd—ugh, she's such a worrywart! They all are and I don't know _where_ they get it from!"

One corner of his lip quirks up into a smirk. "I can imagine," he drawls easily. Knowing her dad and who her mother had to be...

The thought is like ice water and makes him somber all over again as he looked at the graves, Lisbet's and Drystan's.

"Hey, Cap'n?" he finds himself saying. "You don't have to answer but... I get that Tana must've asked you to talk to me." Even if he didn't deserve that kind of consideration. "But... why here?"

"I was going to visit here anyway so I thought... I might as well do it here." He smiles, then, reaching down to touch the little gravestone. "Today's his birthday," he explains. "I can't always make it but I try to visit here when I can. Since we were already close by..." He lets out a long sigh. "It's the least I can do for him."

"His birthday..." He lets out a single, disbelieving laugh. At a glance, the grave looked over a thousand years old. "You still remember that?"

"Of course I do!" was his immediate answer. By the sound of it, he was almost offended he'd asked. "I remember all of my kids' birthdays. What kind of dad would I be if I didn't?"

He remembers the _bastard _who sired him and his sister and shakes his head. "You really are a good dad. You know that, right, Cap'n?"

He smiles again, though it's a sad expression and his eyes were, again, unreadable. "I try," he says. Then, after a moment's hesitation: "There was another thing. I was planning on going by myself, at first, but with what just happened with Elizabeth..." His voice breaks at her name and he was to swallow before he can speak after. "I didn't want to be alone here."

He doesn't know what to say.

He lowers his gaze again to the gravestone, eyes moving as if tracing the name. "It's... it's not easy, being here. Elizabeth—I've lost her so many times and it never gets any easier no matter how times I lose her but... with my kids, _our_ kids..." His hands tighten into fists and he grits his teeth before he speaks. "It's different. They aren't—they're different each time and I love them all, of course, they're _ours _but... they're always different. They're not cursed with reincarnation or resurrection or anything. When they die... they're gone. I'll never see them again."

He can't help it. "Captain..."

"It's not like I want them to go through what Elizabeth is," he continues. "I just... I wish I could see them again. But I can't."

There's nothing he can say that'll make anything better. All he can do, all he does, is reach out, grasp him by the shoulder, and hope that it brought him some comfort, no matter how small. He doesn't know what else he can do.

At the very least, Meliodas made no move to remove his hand. "We should get back," he says, reaching out to pat the grave once before standing.

Ban never once let go.

"Happy birthday, kiddo," Meliodas says to the grave. "I'm sorry I forgot to bring any flowers. With everything that's been happening... I'll make it up to you the next time I visit, alright?"

There isn't much Ban can do. Barely anything, really.

But if it were just this...

Without letting go, he turns away, reaches out with his free hand and exhales. _"Fox Hunt."_

He did not shout the technique. This wasn't the place for that. In point of fact, he hadn't really intended to be heard, though the Captain would've heard him regardless. He'd said the words as softly as a whisper and, as such, his power manifested to reflect that, the objects flying into his hand as if blown by a gentle breeze instead of the usual, forceful smack. What came into hand were a small bunch of dandelion flowers, stems torn ragged by the technique, however gentle, but the petals still vibrant. He hands them over without any fanfare, eyes fixed on the grave. "Here."

The Captain seemed to hold his breath for a moment as he accepted the flowers. "Thank you," he breathes, eyes going wide and warm.

"They're just weeds, Cap'n," he says gruffly, not looking at him. "No need to thank me."

He shakes his head. "Dandelions are his favorite," he says as he arrayed them around the gravestone. When he stood to look at him, his eyes were warm with a regard Ban knew a person like him really didn't deserve. It wasn't much. It really isn't. But it's the only thing he could do. "They're perfect."

The Captain flies them back to the Boar Hat in what felt like a blink of an eye and Ban heads back to his room without saying a word the moment Meliodas lets him down. Meliodas doesn't stop him.

"Night, Ban," he calls out. "Remember what I said."

He only closes his eyes. "Night, Cap'n."

Elaine was still fast asleep and she doesn't stir when he crawls back under the covers to be by her side. He doesn't try to sleep. He hasn't been able to since he found out about the curse. Over and over, what he said plays in his head. He'd been so fucking _selfish,_ so _thoughtless..._

_"Remember what I said."_

"I remember what I said," he murmurs into the dark of night. "Damn it. Fuck me."

He does not sleep that night.

* * *

"Does it ever get any easier, brother?"

Over the Boar Hat, unseen by even the ghostly Helbram, there were two people who lingered just outside their parents' window, one, an ancient-looking matron of a woman and the other, a youthful-looking teenaged boy

Drystan, thirteen-years-old the day he'd died but, by this point, a spirit older than Liones itself

And Triss, seemingly ancient but all in all, barely a fraction of her brother's age.

He flashes his little sister his best smile as he reaches out to take her hand, giving it a squeeze.

"I'm sure things'll get better for Mom and Dad," he says, as surely as if saying an axiom of life. He's seen this cycle so many times, has had to comfort so many siblings once they'd passed and had to see the cycle from this perspective, and he still always says those words. "It's difficult now but I know it will get better for them someday."

He can imagine it, a brighter future ahead, even as the picture of his father holding his mother's hand never left his sight. He's seen this so many times and it never got any easier. But, all the same, it would be a disservice to doubt and, no matter what, he will never stop believing in his father, his mother, his Auntie Merlin and, now, all the friends they had.

"I just wish..." She exhales. "Back when they visited the Capital of the Dead, I wish we could've..."

"We can only allow them in once," he reminds her, not for the first time. "So we have to make it count."

Already he can feel the Capital of Dead beginning to call them back, as it did for all spirits who had not tethered themselves to the mortal realm. Together they rose, their parents' never leaving their sight and, as they did, he remembers the first time his father tried to visit the Capital. He'd wanted so badly to come and meet him, back then, but he stopped before he could open that door because, in his heart, he knew that the right time for that would be—

"Once the curse finally breaks, we'll let them in. We'll all see them then."

* * *

**Whoa, this turned out monstrous. Pretty sure it's obvious but this Lisbet is the same one referred to in my oneshot, Surge (formerly Spillage). That works as a standalone but, in this 'verse, part of the reason he went straight to volcano jumping after was because his son had... yeah. Unlike with Lisbet, he actually did get him out but he died from smoke inhalation a few hours after.**

**If Drystan had lived, he'd be 2,198 but, in all likelihood, he would've died at around a hundred years old. Unlike most of Meliodas' other kids, Drystan aged at a regular rate and had a normal lifespan. Triss was much the same.**

**If it's any consolation, the next update planned for this (Trisha) is going to be pretty cheerful****. ****I'd like to say Wrong Time will be updated soon but I have finals coming and the chapter's too important to rush. I will say it'll be up before the year ends, though.**

**Anyways, reviews're always appreciated and have a nice day.**


	5. Trisha

**You may be _unbelievably _annoying, internet connectivity problems, but you will not stop me, not forever! Have at thee!**

**In other words, ****my internet imploded, my service provider's unhelpful, and typing via phone is a pain. Anyway, he****re's the fourth eldest of the living kids, Trisha, in a chapter set way before the 10-year timeskip but after the Triss chapter.**

* * *

It was on an absolutely normal day in Liones when the world as Diane knew it changed forever.

Like with a lot of things, it had to do with the Captain.

And like with a lot of her nightmares involving the Captain, it involved another woman.

It all started when King Baltra intercepted her on her way to the Sins' quarters, the king sweating and badly out of breath.

"Diane! Have you seen Meliodas anywhere?"

"Eh? Oh, no, sorry, I haven't but he should be back at the training grounds outside the city... What's going on, Bartra?"

Even though he was both royalty and her boss as the king of Liones, Bartra tended to be pretty casual around her and the rest of the Sins unless there was some kind of official business going on—which this obviously wasn't. Right now, sweaty and bent double as he panted, he looked less than dignified standing there. Despite this, though, he was also practically _glowing_ with excitement. Next to him was—

Diane tilts her head. "Who's that?"

The stranger at Bartra's side smiles serenely back. "I could ask you the same question," she demurs. "Care to introduce us, Your Majesty?"

Next to King Baltra was someone she didn't recognize, a silver-haired woman in long, intricately-embroidered robes, with a jeweled rapier hanging from a cord around her waist. It was always hard for her to judge who was tall and who wasn't—from her point of view, everyone not a giant was basically tiny—but the woman was at least Bartra's height. Her silver hair made it hard to tell her age but Diane thought she was probably around her twenties or maybe thirties

"Oh, excuse me." He coughs, standing up to his full height. "This is the Serpent's Sin of Envy of the Seven Deadly Sins, Diane. Diane," he says, looking at her. "This is the Lady Tristiana, headmistress of Caerfyrddin. The Caerfyrddin Mage Academia," he adds, seeing her confusion. "Merlin was its founder. It's the most famous university for magic in all of Britannia."

"Your Majesty, you flatter me," she says, though her smile had turned radiant at his words. "If you don't mind, I would prefer that you refer to me as Trisha," she says amiably. She had a very pleasant voice, Diane couldn't help but notice. Lilting and kind of... elegant. She was kind of jealous, actually. "I trust that you have no objections... er, Lady Diane? Is there something on my face?"

Oh no, she'd been staring. She couldn't help it, there was just something... familiar about her, maybe? Something about her just rang a bell but she didn't know what... "No! Not at all!" she hastily says, instead. "Nice to meet you, Lady Tristi-Lady Trisha!"

Flustered, she extends a finger for her to shake, which she did, her grip dainty but her hand more calloused than Diane had expected.

"Just Trisha, if you please," she says, smiling. "I've heard many a tale on your exploits, Lady Diane. Truly, I am honored to make your acquaintance. Ah, but I digress," she coughs. "I am here to formally request a meeting with Sir Meliodas."

Diane freezes.

"Eh?"

"I am here to formally request a meeting with Sir Meliodas," she repeats. "The Meliodas who is the Dragon's Sin of Wrath and Captain of the Seven Deadly Sins. I understand he would be your commanding officer, Lady Diane? I need to meet with him... _Privately,_ if possible," she adds, with a small, secretive little smile. "It's a rather urgent matter."

Privately.

This... _woman... _wanted to meet with _her_ Captain... _privately._

This woman, Trisha, was... well, _pretty. _Her hair was set in an immaculate half-bun, the rest reaching down to her waist in a silver curtain. Her catlike eyes were a striking green. Her robes were beautiful, deep violet shot through with elaborate embroidery in golden threads. Even her _weapon_ looked pretty, her rapier all shining silver with honey-yellow jewels decorating its guard. Compared to Diane in her everyday clothes, still all sweaty from a hard-won spar against Gowther, she looked just _elegant. _Even next to an actual King, she looked like a princess.

"Do you two... know each other?" she has to ask, just _barely _able to keep the hostility from her voice. "You and the Captain?"

She smiles, eyes twinkling. "We're acquainted, yes," she says, so indulgent it was practically a purr. "_Very_ well acquainted."

_Acquainted._

That had her hackles rising.

How was _she _acquainted with the Captain?!

"Diane?" Bartra prompts, reminding her that he was there (and that she _probably_ shouldn't do anything reckless, Bartra would never approve of her doing anything violent toward his guests). "Would you accompany Lady Trisha to Meliodas? It's..." For some reason, Bartra seemed almost... _giddy_ with excitement. "It's an urgent matter. And confidential," he adds when she opens her mouth to ask. "I'm sure Meliodas will want to see her alone."

_Alone._

"I'd... _love_ to," Diane grits out.

Trisha smiles, brightly and apparently blithely unaware of the daggers Diane was glaring in her direction. "Wonderful."

* * *

Despite Diane's best efforts at rebuffing conversation, Trisha either didn't notice or didn't care, simply and serenely continuing on her steady stream of commentary as they walked along Liones. Unlike even the citizens who'd grown used to seeing her around town, Trisha didn't seem at all intimidated by Diane's being a giant who could quite feasibly step on her if she came too close, walking along right next to Gideon's hammerhead without a care in the world. It should've been nice, really, having a stranger who didn't treat her any differently from others just because she was a giant but right now, it only frustrated her. No matter what she did, Trisha just wouldn't be intimidated.

Who was she?

And what was this _private _matter anyway?!

No matter how many times she asked, no matter how intimidatingly she demanded it, Trisha would only answer with a smile, say it was confidential, then promptly change the subject. It was _infuriating._

"I will admit, while I've traveled far and wide over the years, I am a stranger to Liones," she was currently saying. "It is even lovelier than I had imagined it would be." She flashes Diane her annoyingly elegant smile. "As expected from the kingdom with defenders as prestigious as the Seven Deadly Sins in their employ."

Diane pointedly looks away from. "Hmph."

"I must say, however," she continues on. "I was rather surprised to see your accommodations. Given your renown, I would have thought you Sins would be provided with a home fit for your standing." Then her eyes twinkled. "And I mean that both figuratively and literally, Lady Diane. You are of the Giant Clan, are you not?"

"Obviously," she grits out. Her every step makes the ground shake, though Trisha never once commented or complained, continuing on with that same _irritating _grace. "What's it to _you?"_

"I was just thinking that though your accommodations seem comfortable, I rather doubt you could stand inside its walls," Trisha explains. "I was considering a way to amend that... only if you would be amenable to my enchanting your living quarters, of course. I promise you, it would be completely safe."

"Hoh?" Whatever this _chick_ was selling, Diane wasn't going to be interested. The sarcasm all but dripped from her voice. "Do _tell."_

Her eyes sparkled. "In theory, enchanting the interiors with extension charms should be a relatively simple task. My pockets are enchanted with such," she explains, demonstrating by pulling out from her pocket a long... was that a _broom?_

"It's a very handy enchantment, yes," Trisha says, her smile mischievous as she tucked the broom—which was easily her height—back into her pocket, though you really couldn't tell from her robes. "And undetectable. I could also... possibly enchant your furniture to accommodate the user. I'm sure one of my students wrote a thesis on that matter... although his work had been for fabrics, I'm sure his spellwork ought to be applicable to other materials if I alter the matrices correctly…"

"Could you really do all that?" she couldn't help but ask. For all that Diane was determined not to be taken in, it was hard not to get engrossed when she talked. She had that kind of voice and, even aside from that, a thousand ideas were sparkling in the green of her eyes and it was hard not to get swept along.

"It would be quite a simple task," she says confidently though, after a moment, her smile falters. "In... theory, anyway. The power required to do such a project wouldn't be... _insignificant_. Of course, I would be happy to do all that I can but..." for the first time, she seems almost embarrassed as she, seemingly unconsciously, grips the handle of her rapier, thumbing the jewels on its guard. "I myself would be... well, in terms of power, I'm not... well," she shakes her head and smiles, though to Diane's eye, it looked almost strained_._ "I'm sure that my predecessor, Lady Merlin, would be happy to assist me in such an endeavor if it were for the sake of you, her comrades. With her support, I believe it would be quite doable."

Merlin? "Maybe," she says doubtfully. "She's pretty busy with a bunch of her own experiments though..."

Confidence seeped back into her posture. "Well, I'm sure I could persuade her," she says. "We are very well acquainted, she and I. I was her apprentice," she explains, seeing her questioning look. "Years and years ago, yes, but we've kept in touch."

"Eh, really?" Knowing just how _bad_ Merlin's relationship was with her current apprentice (and, actually, just knowing Vivian herself), it was hard to imagine Trisha having been one of Merlin's apprentices, not when she spoke of her so fondly and seemed so... _un-Vivianlike _in general_._ "She's never mentioned you before."

She smiles. "As she's mentioned anyone else from her past?" she says teasingly, and Diane has to concede her point. "Well, in any case, Lady—_Diane, watch out!"_

Diane hadn't noticed but while she'd been focused on their conversation, a BANG! had sounded out all throughout the kingdom as an enchanted ballista, an experiment of Merlin's, malfunctioned. Now, a huge, steel-tipped ballista bolt was heading her way, thicker than a tree trunk and aglow with the light of an enchantment that threatened to freeze the breath from her lungs as it zoomed towards her.

Realizing it was too fast for her to dodge, Diane began to brace herself:

_"Heavy Met_—"

But, somehow, Trisha was faster.

_"Counter Vanish!"_

The spell-light surrounding the bolt flickered before dissipating as Trisha somersaulted off of it with the hand not holding her rapier, weapon held ready and green eyes dark.

_"Enchant: Hellblaze!"_

From below, Diane feels a wave of heat wash over her, hot enough to boil.

Then, in a single, shining thrust, the entire ballista bolt explodes into splinters, the pieces of which quickly combusted into cinders. Her silver hair gleaming in the fiery light, Trisha looked striking as she descended, seeming to float rather than fall.

"Ow!"

Meanwhile, Diane hadn't even noticed the steel warhead from the ballista bolt falling before it landed right on her face and knocked her on her butt.

While she sat there, dazed, Trisha had rushed over to her side, her rapier in hand, its blade still blazing with dark fire and the jewels on its guard reflecting their eldritch light. Compared to Diane, she looked elegant. Immaculate. Not a single hair had fallen out of place.

"Holy _shit,_ are you okay!?" she was yelling, looking panicked as she rushed over, sweat dripping down her face and streaking through the tint on her cheeks—she'd been wearing makeup, Diane only now notices, even as Trisha's magic pulled her back to her feet. "Seriously, damn—who's the incompetent fuckfacefiring ballista at people?! That shit shouldn't even be _armed_ inside royal premises! Much less with a fuckin' frost enchant of all things!"

... oh, no, she really was out of it, wasn't she?

"Erk, I mean!" She coughs. "A-are you unharmed, Lady Diane?"

"I'm fine..."

Except for her pride...

"I am pleased to hear that," Trisha says, smile composed as she sheathed her blade. "Although that… is a rather noticeable bump there. Are you sure you're alright? I'm no druid but I do know a good recipe for headache medicine, if you need any."

"It's fine, don't…" Her head's pounding but she waves her off, anyway. Gosh, that was just _embarrassing,_ getting saved like that. She could've handled it, of course, but—

Something suddenly clicked.

"Counter Vanish... that's one of the _Captain's_ moves."

Trisha freezes. "Er... yes, yes it is. H-He taught me himself. We're... very close, yes. Anyway!" She coughs. "What were we talking about earlier?"

"I…" Diane closes her eyes and sighs. "How _do_ you know the Captain, anyway?" she finally asks. "Are you two…?"

She almost doesn't want to know…

"Well..." she scratches her head. "We've simply known each other for a very long time. I've known him since I was in diapers," she adds, looking almost proud. "In any case…" Her smile suddenly turned coy. "There's no doubt that my... Meliodas will be happy to see me."

My Meliodas...

Diane closes her eyes and sighs, long and true.

"I'm sure he will..."

* * *

"—really, if you were at the funeral, you could've at _least_ stopped by to say hello. We had a whole _barrel _of Bernia set aside just for you!"

"Aww, Tam, you didn't have to do that—"

"Triss _asked_ us to! It was in her will and everything! Which you would've known if you stayed for the—"

"Heeey, Cap'n, what's with all the—whoa, you're…"

Diane's been part of the Seven Deadly Sins for a while now and so, she has a pretty good idea of what to expect these days. Usually, at this time in the afternoon, Ban and the Captain would be having their seventh spar for the day while Merlin or Gowther oversaw, with Escanor lying unconscious somewhere on the training grounds, either sleeping off his last spar with the Captain or knocked out by a Blackout Arrow. King, meanwhile, would be back in Liones proper, helping tend to the castle gardens. This was what she expected.

She certainly didn't expect Ban hanging out with _two _of the Captain.

"What the…" Trisha murmurs while Diane _stares _at the sight. "That's…"

On second look, there weren't two Captains but there was someone next to the Captain who looked _so_ similar, it was actually kind of mindboggling. Honestly, the clothes—open blue robes over tunic and trousers—were the biggest giveaway, every other difference, she had to actively look for to find and even then, they weren't that noticeable. The doppelganger—his skin was lighter, he was a lot less muscular, his hair was in a short ponytail, and, up close, his eyes were hazel ringed with blue rather than the Captain's green—but in all other respects, he was so similar to the Captain, they could've been _twins._

Twins...

... actually, now that she was thinking about it... the second Meliodas' robe was open, and the clothes he wore underneath looked shabby, but it was _identical_ to Trisha's in everything except color, blue with silver rather than violet with gold but the embroidery itself identical on closer inspection. And... Trisha's eyes were a completely different shape but now that she was thinking about it... her eyes were the exact same shade of green as the Captain's.

She didn't have to worry at all! Trisha was actually the Captain's sis—

"Trisha!" The Captain's eyes outright _shone_ the moment he caught sight of her, pointing her out to Ban, his expression glowing. "Ban, look! That's my daughter! Isn't she amazing?"

...

Whut.

Meanwhile, Trisha's cheeks had turned a deep pink,

"Da-Father, please."

Meliodas didn't seem to notice. He'd run up to greet her almost the minute he'd lain eyes on her. "Heya, honey," he says cheerily, jumping up to put her in an affectionate headlock, which the still pink-faced Trisha took with something like fond resignation. "Long time no see!"

_Father. Honey. My_ daughter.

And, just like that, her world tilted eeeeever so slightly onto its axis...

"Nice to finally meetcha, kid," Ban was saying as he walked over, arm slung over the Captain's doppelganger, who currently looked like a deer in torchlights—which added an additional layer of weirdness given he looked near-identical to the Captain. "You look just like your pictures. This guy's your Dad, huh?"

_Dad._

Her world tilts just a tad bit more…

Then shatters.

"Ehhh?! _Father? Dad?!"_ Diane sputters.

"Well, yeah!" he says, as if only just noticing her presence. "Hey, Diane! I see you've met my daughter. I hope she's behaved herself," he adds sternly, turning to Trisha. Who was his daughter. Because he had a daughter. As well as a son. He had children. Kids. Their Captain. The Seven Deadly Sins' Dragon's Sin of Wrath. Meliodas. He had kids.

_Since when did _that _happen?!_

While she was stunned, Trisha had turned even redder. "D-Father, _please_," she was saying. "I'm—I am not a child and I... am here on business. Very urgent business. Which I thought my deputy headmaster had _agreed_ to entrust to me." Her last words were said with a pointed glance in the Captain's doppelganger's direction, though he himself didn't seem to notice, not when Ban had just put him in a headlock. "And in any case, Father, I thought you insisted on a code of absolute secrecy regarding our… relationship."

"We're all friends here," Meliodas says airily. "Anyway, what's with the formality, kiddo?" he asks, head tilting to one side. "Is something wrong?"

Trisha's expression cracked.

"_Daaaad_," she actually whines, now looking not at all like the elegant headmistress Diane had been so envious of, instead looking like… well, a perfectly normal girl embarrassed by her parents. "I'm technically still on-duty and I'm _trying _to be professional, I—I have an _image!_"

"Aww, there's no need for that, honey," he says brightly. "You know all of the Sins are good friends of mine! You _have_ been getting my letters, haven't you? Oh, Diane!" he suddenly says, looking at her now. "Sorry, I forgot to introduce you. Son, this is the Serpent's Sin of Envy, Diane. She's one of my colleagues in the Seven Deadly Sins. Diane, this is my son. C'mon, introduce yourself, kiddo!"

Son. Not brother, not twin.

_Son._

Diane tries to say something but all that comes out is a slightly hysterical squeak.

"Th-the name is Tam," the Captain's _son_ says shyly, having finally gotten out of Ban's headlock. "Tristram, really, but I, uh, prefer Tam. It's, uh, it's nice to meet you, Miss Diane. Um, and you too, Mister Ban."

"No need to be so stiff, kid," Ban says, waving him off, looking _completely_ unsurprised by any of this. "Any brat of the Cap'n's can just call me 'Ban'."

Diane whips around to stare at him. "Ban! You _knew _the Captain had—the Captain has…!"

"'Course I do," Ban says nonchalantly, and Diane sort of wants to laugh even as more of the world as she knew it fell apart at the seams. The Captain had kids. And Ban knew.

She pinches herself.

… This was _way _too weird to be reality. But she wasn't dreaming.

"So, Trisha..." Ban was saying. "You're the one who learned how to tie your shoes real quick, right?"

Trisha, the Captain's _daughter,_ squawks. "_Dad!_ I've invented a potion that can basically turn people _immortal _and you picked _that _to brag about?!"

"Oh, don't worry, honey, I've bragged about that part, too. My little girl's a _genius_ when it comes to magical theory," he adds to Ban, puffing out his chest without an ounce of shame. "My kids are amazing! They're just like their mother!"

"Daaad…" Trisha groans, while Ban snickers. "Please stop…"

"What?" He remained absolutely shameless. "I'm really, really proud of you, honey."

"I know, I know, you say that _all_ the time..." She seemed pleased, though, going by her smile, even if the red on her cheeks had yet to fully go away. "Dad, just… make sure you come alright? He's told you already, right? About the… _urgent_ business?"

"You mean Tam's wedding?" Meliodas says brightly, prompting Trisha to slap a hand to her forehead, muttering. "I wouldn't miss it for the world. I can't _wait_ to finally meet this Esyllt of yours!"

"She is great," Tam says softly; having escaped Ban's clutches, he'd retreated behind the Captain. Who was his father. Just as he was Trisha's father.

One thought finally managed to pierce through the stunned haze that still filled Diane's mind as she slowly adjusted to the shift in paradigm: _'So _that's _what the urgent matter was!"_

Then, an unexpected voice purrs: "Congratulations on your engagement, Tam. It's good to see you doing well."

"Auntie!" Tam exclaims, poking out from behind Meliodas' back just as Trisha sputters: "Aun-Lady Merlin?!"

Diane finally manages to speak. "H-hey, Merlin..." she stammers. "Did he just call you _Auntie?!"_

"Well, of course he did. He is one of my darling godchildren, after all," she says, smiling indulgently at Tam before looking wryly at Trisha. "As are you, of course, Trisha. No need to dispense with the formalities."

"Auntie, I'm _trying _to stay professional..."

"And you're doing wonderfully," she says, tone every bit as indulgent. "But it's unnecessary, my dear girl. We're all friends here."

"Ugh, I guess... Fuck it!"

She seemed to have to steel herself, however, even as Merlin turned away from her to engage Tam, who seemed just a bit livelier talking to her compared to how he'd been when under Ban's sights. Trisha's cheeks were still burning pink as she then turned to Diane.

"C-can we start over?" she pleads. "Please?" And before Diane could say anything, she continues, all in a rush. "Hi, I'm Trisha, nice to meet you, Dad's written loads about you and the Sins and I'm glad to finally meet you in person. That guy's my older brother and my deputy headmaster in Caerfyrddin. Please don't be offended if he clams up," she adds. "He gets really nervous around people who aren't family," she says apologetically. "He'll usually get over it if you give him about a hundred years to get used to you."

"Sis…" Diane hears. Tam was staring balefully at Trisha from his spot by the others, where Merlin was now regaling Ban with stories of their apprenticeships, with the Captain providing running commentary. His ears were bright red and stuck out from his mass of blond hair. "Please shut up."

"So, yeah," she continues, as if not having heard her brother. "Sorry for misleading you earlier. Dad's super overprotective and he's always told us to keep the whole thingabout him being our Dad a secret." She then looks up at Diane, the blush gone from her cheeks, one eye closed as she grins—and this time, Diane can see the Captain in her, clear as day, in the green of her eyes and playfulness of her smile. "I know this has to be awkward and all but I do hope we can be friends."

It's hard not to smile back.

* * *

"Wait, you have _how_ many siblings?!"

"Yeah, Dad's pretty fuckingprolific."

"Sis, _please_, don't talk about that…"

"Man, Cap'n, you weren't kidding about the big family, huh?"

"Indeed he wasn't. They are all my godchildren, of course—"

"And they're all amazing! Just like their mother!"

* * *

**Sorry again for the delay. Being without internet's a pain, especially in quarantine. As a bonus, have some history**

**Trisha and Tam were born exactly nineteen years and one day apart. After Tam's mother, Elizabeth/Betha, died from complications after the birth, Meliodas single-dads Tam while working on the road as a mercenary/guard-for-hire****—which is how he meets Elizabeth's next incarnation, Elysabet/Lysa, a traveling merchant who initially hires him to guard her caravan.**

**Trisha would be born two years later to the by-then husband-wife merchant team, to be raised alongside Tam, who Lysa always treated him as her own. They're the first time Meliodas ever got to raise any of his kids side-by-side as siblings, something helped by the fact that Tam aged slowly enough that he was still very much a child when Trisha was born. (In comparison, up until Trisha invented her pseudo-immortality potion, she aged at a normal rate) Normally, the age gaps are so extreme, they're full-grown (or dead) by the time the next is born. ****All his kids get along really well with each other but they're especially close due to their upbringing.**

**Fun fact: Aside from her dad's eye color and mom's hair color, Trisha looks the least like either of her parents. Instead, she's a dead ringer for her maternal grandmother (the woman who birthed Lysa, not the Supreme Deity). It actually bothers her a lot that she doesn't look like her siblings. She loves them all though. All of her siblings are free to go to Caerfyrddin for safe haven, pseudo-immortality potion, and chats with the headmaster sibling duo.**

**Wrong Time will be updated soon-ish. **

**As always, all feedback's appreciated and have a nice day.**


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